Ashes of the Earth Read Online Free PDF

dead
countenance seemed to be everywhere, even when he closed his eyes. He
clenched his jaw, struggling not to weep. Most of the prisoners were
grinning at him, mocking him, when he looked up.
    Collapsing
into the deep shadows of his bunk, he felt his grief gnawing away at
his heart, and for a long time he lay as if paralyzed. Then, with
great effort, he pushed the pain back. There would be only one way to
deal with this agony, only one way to carry on his life. He had to
understand what happened, had to find those responsible. Replaying
the terrible scene at the library workshop in his mind's eye, he went
over it again and again, finally considering the flames and the
pattern of destruction. The papers on the top of the desk had just
begun to ignite when he arrived, but two stacks of shelves had
already burnt so intensely they'd set off the roof above. Under the
desk had been shreds of colored paper, which he had furtively
collected, and below the burning shelves had been the remains of the
two oil lamps Jonah used for writing at night, a dozen feet from the
desk. They could not simply have been knocked down by Jonah's
flailing feet. Rather, they'd been lifted from his desk and thrown
against the shelves. The papers on the desk had been lit by a stray
ember.
    Left
on the desk had been the unfamiliar heavy knife Hadrian had used to
cut the hanging rope. His palm and fingers were slightly burnt where
he had held the knife. He studied the pattern of reddened skin.
    The
hilt had been brass and disproportionately thick, the blade also was
very thick, with a cupped guard around the hilt. It had not belonged
to Jonah.
    He
sat up, looking for Nash. The other prisoners were in their bunks,
but the young thief had washed his socks and was trying to dry them
over the solitary candle lantern on the table.
    "Swords,"
Hadrian said as he approached him. "Who has swords? Why would
one be cut down into a heavy knife?"
    Nash
shrugged. "Everyone loves a sword when one turns up in salvage
or the black market. But then they get it home and realize it isn't
so useful. Practical men, they'll grind them down to a useful size."
    "What
kind of practical men?"
    "Farmers,"
the youth offered, then considered the point a moment. "Fishermen,
millers, maybe butchers and carpenters, even—"
    A
low singsong whistle cut Nash off. He scowled at the brutish man
sitting on a bunk near the door. "Fuck you, Wade," the
youth spat, then turned so as to put his back to the bearded
prisoner.
    "If
you wanted to get into the library at night," Hadrian continued,
"how would you do it?" The whistle continued, and Hadrian
looked back at Wade. It was a prisoner's taunt, a warning about those
who sang out secrets.
    "But,
Mr. Boone," Nash said, "I would never ... not the library.
My momma goes there. She'll come into town, all those miles, just to
borrow a book."
    "But
just suppose."
    Nash
bit his lower lip. "I would bet old Mr. Jonah never locked those
doors on the upstairs balcony he used for experiments. Wouldn't be
hard to put a ladder up there. But probably no need. The librarian
works late a lot. She leaves the front door open for people to return
books."
    Hadrian
gave the boy a grateful nod and returned to his bunk. He was so deep
in thought he failed to notice the shreds of paper until he sat on
them. He shot back up, straining to see in the dim light. There were
dozens of paper strips. As he scooped up several and took them to the
lantern, Nash retreated uneasily.
    With
a shudder he saw they were fine vellum, some covered with a classical
typeface, others with the bright inks of a map. Low, gravelly
laughter rose from near the door.
    He
threw the shreds in Wade's face as he reached the big man.
    "You
stole a book tonight!" he spat.
    The
cell's bully held up an elegantly bound volume entitled World
Geography 1900. "I liberated a month's worth of ass wipes. Stuff
they put in the latrines is like sandpaper."
    "It's
irreplaceable!" Hadrian clenched his fists.
    "So's
my